The Chocolates were Good, Very Good
by CookieTower
Summary: "Wait, no! Come back!" England shouted as he burst out of the backdoor. Picardy did not listen to him, however. "Bloody hell, Francis! What are you doing?" - For April Fools! I wonder what France did this time? Oneshot FrUK USCan Lemon.


This is a very late April Fools' story! Might as well post it anyway, yeah? Just imagine that it's April first. ;w;

**Warning: **BL, slash, fail-humor, out-of-character-ness, stupid author, BL, **BL—**oh dear God, there is dude-on-dude action here! Do not read if you do not like it! ;w; It's toward the end, but yeah. **Read at your own risk**_**.**_Also, this is FrUK (if you squint) and USCan. Not Franada. And my first time writing…err, _**it**_. ;w; Syet, ang haba nung _you know what scene_ ha. (nyaha nag-tagalog na)

**Disclaimer: **Axis Powers: Hetalia is not mine. The whole _Jokers' Treats _thing was just something I made up, but if it actually exists… :P Don't sue me. ;w; I'm a minor**/shot.**

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It was a rather boring day for the country of _l'amour_. Usually, he would be running around naked by now—causing havoc amongst the nations, blackmailing his friends and enemies, flirting with his beloved _rosbif_… et cetera. But for some unfathomable reason, he could not think of anything mischievous to do for today. That was a big problem.

It was April Fools today and France was really feeling bored and uncreative (of course, he would not say that out loud). Right now, he was only lounging on his chic sofa with a glass of fine wine in his grasp.

"What to do, what to do…" the stubbled nation sighed.

What could he do for today? He had not planned anything yet. Even if he thought of something grand now, would he have enough time? He could always force Picardy to do everything for him again—the man was able to take everyone's picture overnight, after all. Maybe he could take everyone's embarrassing photos again?

France shook his head. "_No, no. That is too unoriginal._"

Now that he thought about it, his practical jokes were not so perverted like everyone thought. If you ask him, it was only embarrassing, but not completely perverted. Those things were not even near his standards of being perverted—he had not forced all the nations to have an orgy yet, hadn't he? Hmm, a forced… orgy?

"I wouldn't survive the blows they would give me." France chuckled. By blows, he meant punches, kicks, head-butts, bullets, torpedoes, bombs… Ah, innuendos. "And I don't have enough blackmail material…"

The self-proclaimed big brother groaned. "I must do something!"

Instantaneously, a loud explosion made the elder nation fall off of his sofa.

"Fuck!" France heard someone shout. With sigh, the nation got up from the floor and went down to the basement of his house.

As he opened the door to the basement, a thick cloud of smoke escaped and blocked his sight. He heard more curses from inside. He laughed and tried to wave away the black matter as he walked in.

"Arthur? Are you okay, _mon lapin_?"

There was a growl. "Get out, Francis! Don't mess with me!"

"Ah, but this is my house—_our _house, _non_? I think I have the right to mess with you since you might destroy our home." The nation reasoned. France approached the other nation as the smoke slowly dissipated. "What happened here?"

"It's n-none of your business, frog!" England yelped and tried to cover something with his usual black cape that was burnt around the hems. France raised a brow in amusement and attempted to remove the cape. The Englishman held it down firmly though, and swatted the Frenchman's hands away. "Stop it!"

"What are you hiding?" the stubbled nation snapped and forcibly pulled the burnt cape away. Once the hidden object was revealed, France blinked and cocked his head to a side.

Under the cape was a tray of small brown blocks about the size of half of a match box. The blocks had colored prints of different flags of countries surrounded by hearts, bears, stars or flowers. The long haired blond smiled.

"Are those chocolates?" France inquired. He looked genuinely surprised, however, when England shook his head.

"N-no, just, leave me alone!"

"They are not chocolates?"

"Yes, well, not really. Just don't eat them—hey!"

France took the chocolate with his flag and ate it, much to England's annoyance and horror. Also, to the astonishment of the Frenchman, the chocolate actually tasted like chocolate. He could not understand why England turned at least two shades paler after he had swallowed the cocoa treat.

The long haired blond laughed, "What is the matter, _mon amour_? It's just choc—" his words were cut short by a bout of coughing. The emerald eyed nation near him started panicking and rubbed his back. Suddenly, a cloud of pink smoke engulfed France for a moment and then disappeared.

Once his coughs had subsided, he looked to his companion. England was staring straight at him for a few seconds until he erupted into a fit of laughter.

"Oh for the love of the Queen, Francis! You look ridiculous!" the sandy haired nation said between giggles.

France cocked his head to a side in confusion. Through his action, he realized that his hair did not follow his head movement—his hair should be able to do that since it was so soft and manageable. He felt alarmed and rushed up stairs for a mirror. At the sight of his reflection, he wept—magnificently, of course.

He was wearing nothing but an underwear from what it seemed like the earlier eras of Japan. He had a beak-like structure covering his mouth and there was a weird green doily-thing on his head. His skin was a shade of green as well. But worst of all, his beautiful, soft, silky, golden hair was gone.

"Arthur, what have you done!" he wailed. The mentioned man materialized behind him, still laughing.

"Relax, Francis. The effects will wear off in a few hours." England reassured, rather halfheartedly. France looked like the green creature he had met in Japan house years before. "I told you not to eat it, didn't I?"

"You're horrible! How could you make such thing?"

England blushed. "I—I did not! It was an accident. I was supposed to make normal chocolates for yo—" the sandy haired man cut his words short and shook his head fervently. He was blushing more though. "A-anyway, just calm down and do not eat another one."

"Like I would—wait," France eyed his reflection for a minute and looked to England. "_Cher_, what are those chocolates exactly?"

The emerald eyed nation sighed, "Jokers' Treats," France gestured for him to continue. England sighed again. "They are magical chocolate that the fairies use to play a practical joke on their peers."

"What do the chocolates do?"

"A lot," England admitted begrudgingly. He should really follow instructions properly next time… or use a real kitchen instead of a basement. And use a normal chocolate recipe. Damn. "Like what happened just now; the consumer is turned into whatever. Not all chocolates give the same result, however. Some gives the consumer a short-term sickness. Some makes them switch bodies with the joker. Some grants the wish of the joker. Some changes their personality. Some messes with their body. Some, well… uh…"

France was getting thrilled about the chocolates now. He grinned. "Some?"

England gulped and blushed. "Some… _excites _the consumer."

"Ooh~ like aphrodisiac?" England tensed at the word. France chuckled and smirked, "Those are some _interesting _treats."

"Yes, and they are dangerous. I am going to dispose of them now—hey! Francis!"

The Frenchman ran back down to the basement and took the tray of chocolates. He brought two fingers into his mouth and whistled. England ran after him, but he had already gone up and out to his backyard where his ever loyal servant, Picardy, was waiting.

"Picardy~! These chocolates already have the flags of their respective recipients. Place each one in a cute little box and send them to their owners, _s'il vous plait_? Oh! Attach a card saying, _Made with love, Arthur Kirkland_. Understood?"

"_O-oui_." The man stuttered while trying not to laugh at his master's appearance. He took the tray from France and ran off.

"Wait, no! Come back!" England shouted as he burst out of the backdoor. Picardy did not listen to him, however. "Bloody hell, Francis! What are you doing?"

"April Fools', _mon petit lapin~_" France sing-sang and popped England's chocolate into the other nation's mouth. Almost immediately, a pink smoke covered England as well.

England turned into a rabbit.

"_Très mignon_!" He clapped and picked up the disgruntled bunny. "I wonder what will happen to the others… What do you think, Arthur?"

The rabbit-turned-nation just slapped the stubbled nation with its ear.

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Canada woke up to a loud banging on his front door. Grumpily, he got up from his bed, dragged his blanket along with him—to strangle whoever is bothering him on his rare day-off so early in the morning—and went down stairs to answer the door. He found Kumajiro growling at the door as he approached it and smirked, "_Well, I have a bear who can chase off whoever this person is._" He thought.

Before he could hold on to the door knob, he paused. Canada back-tracked his thoughts and blushed; he was being passive-aggressive again. The purple eyed nation groaned and opened the door. Bright blue eyes greeted him with a warm smile.

It was America, holding several bags of what seemed like junk food and some sodas.

"Good afternoon, Mattie!"

"Good a-afternoon?" Canada repeated. The other nation laughed.

America waltzed into the house with a quick peck onto Canada's cheek. "Yes, Mattie, it's the afternoon. Around past three o'clock, I think?" he said and went straight to the living room. "Since it's your day off, why don't we watch a movie together?"

Canada was blushing as he followed the other into the room. "Three o'clock? W-wow, I slept for fifteen hours…"

"That's nothin'; I've slept for three days before." America snorted and dropped his bags on the floor. He pulled out several DVDs from somewhere and waved it in front of Canada. "So, whatd'ya wanna watch?"

"Anything is fine." The strawberry blond smiled and sat down on his couch. America smiled back at him and picked a random movie. Once the opening credits started, the American plopped down on the couch as well and rested his head on Canada's lap.

"This is horror, by the way. So if you get scared, you don't have to worry—" America murmured. Suddenly, the title of the movie flashed on the screen. He flinched and laughed nervously. "'coz I-I'm here. I-I-I'll be your h-hero!"

Canada laughed, his former sleepiness already gone. He gave a reassuring smile and said, "Of course, Al."

A shrill scream echoed around the room (surround-sound, bitches!) and America started cowering in Canada's arms. The purple eyed nation wanted to laugh—sometimes America was just too adorable. However, he just wished the other nation would stop watching these sorts of things. Most of the time, America would end up crying all night right after the movie and Canada would spend hours just trying to make him stop—the paranoia of the American was a different case. Also, his arms and waist would always be squeezed hard enough that he knew there would be bruises there in the morning. America liked to cling to things or people for his dear life. He hated it when America cried.

(But he won't deny that his boyfriend was also cute when he cried.)

Miraculously, half way through the movie, America surrendered.

"I-I was just g-getting b-b-bored! H-haha, it's a b-b-boring m-movie, right M-Mattie?"

Canada sighed and nodded. The other nation smiled and turned off the television. Just a few minutes later, America started being hyper again.

"I almost forgot!" the blue eyed nation dug through his bags of food and brought out two small boxes. He tossed one to Canada. "Iggy sent them."

"Arthur sent them?" Canada repeated and America nodded. The soft spoken nation hummed and opened the box. "It's cute." He smiled.

It was a small brown block designed with his flag and some hearts. Canada closed the box again and turned to his companion just in time to see him bite into the brown block and slip it into his mouth.

"Alfred! Don't eat it!"

"Hmm?" was all America could say as he chewed and swallowed the gift. "It's chocolate, Mattie. You're supposed to eat it."

"But, A-Arthur made it…" he argued and the blue eyed nation snorted. Canada spluttered, "You know how dangerous Arthur's cooking is!"

"Pfft, weak." America teased and snatched the small box from the other. He took the chocolate out and held it out for Canada. "Just eat it! It tastes just fine!"

The strawberry blond nation stared at the cocoa treat with scrunched brows. America pressed it to his mouth with a grin and Canada sighed in resignation, "Fine."

America squealed and dropped the chocolate into Canada's mouth when he opened it. The Canadian chewed it cautiously and swallowed slowly. Nothing happened.

"Now, was that so bad?"

Canada blinked. "Arthur can actually make something edible."

Somewhere, a small emerald eyed rabbit sneezed.

The two North American nations decided to watch another movie again. This time, Canada chose the movie—a cheesy romance comedy of which America laughed at. The other nation argued that it was America who owned the DVD. The blue eyed harrumphed and focused on eating the generous amount of food he had brought.

The movie was very general, in Canada's opinion. It had a clichéd storyline that he knew America loved. He was amused as to how his southern neighbor was so engrossed with the movie. America watched while he absentmindedly shoveled various junk foods into his mouth. His fingers got covered in whatever flavored powder the junk food had, Canada noticed. The purple eyed nation stared at the way America licked and sucked the food residue off of them with half-lidded eyes—wait.

What?

The small popping noises made by the sucking and licking made Canada squirm in his seat. Also, was it just him or was it getting hot in the room? Canada groaned and pulled at his hoodie's neckline. He was sweating, but why wasn't America sweating as well? Canada groaned again.

"Something wrong, Mattie?"

Canada turned to his boyfriend and met concerned eyes. He immediately averted his gaze though, and stared at the moist lips of the American and squirmed.

"'m fine…" he murmured and sunk down into his seat. It was getting hotter, for some reason. His lower regions felt awfully uncomfortable.

"Are you sure? You look feverish." America frowned and stopped the movie. The Canadian nodded weakly and ran a hand through his hair. He brushed that errant curl of his as he did and bit back a moan. America scrunched his brows in worry, "Do you have a fever?"

The southern nation placed a hand on the others forehead. Canada tried hard not to make any unnecessary sounds. Seriously, why was it so hot? His clothes did not feel comfortable. Would America mind if he took them off right now?

America hummed, "Well, it doesn't seem like a fever." He said and brushed Canada's hair back. In the process, he caressed that wayward curl of his boyfriend. His eyes went wide as Canada let out a breathy moan.

"Matthew? Hey, what's wrong?"

"I—I don't k-know," Canada whimpered and pulled America closer by the shoulders. "I d-don't know; I-it's hot. It f-feels un-uncomfortable—d-do something."

"Do what exactly?" America blinked and pulled Canada closer. The other nation sighed at the proximity and tried to pull closer. Blue eyes dilated as Canada started grinding his hips against America's. "M-Matthew?"

"A-Alfred, p-please— do something!" Canada gasped and rocked harder.

America swallowed and groaned, "Damn, Mattie, what's gotten into you?"

"Al-Alfred!" Canada whined.

America took a few moments to analyze his situation: Canada was a panting heap in his arms, rocking against his nether regions deliciously. His eyes were half-lidded. His lips were slightly apart. His cheeks were flushed. Canada was also delightfully moaning. America could feel his boyfriend's nipples protruding even through the fabric of his hoodie. Canada was hard—that much was obvious. Canada was practically begging him to—

"_Do I even need to think about it?_" America asked himself exasperatedly. Canada's whimpering of his name became his answer.

Nope, no thinking needed here.

America pressed his lips firmly onto Canada's. The other nation eagerly kissed back as he continued his ministrations with his hips. America licked the other's lip for entrance and Canada willingly obliged. The southern nation thrust his wet appendage into Canada's mouth and started exploring the enclosure—he had done it before, but somehow, he could never get tired of it.

Canada whined—it was still too hot. He let go of America's shoulders and stroked the contours of his lover's body. Ah, why was America wearing clothes too? These pieces of cloth were beginning to annoy him. Canada tugged at America's shirt impatiently and the other chuckled.

"Easy there; we have time, babe." America murmured huskily against Canada's lips. His northern neighbor shook his head.

"I-It's hot…"

"I know," America said and started kissing along his lover's jaw. "I know."

America's lips found its way down to the Canada's neck. He kissed and lapped at the warm skin and travelled down further until he reached his lover's collar bone. America bit down on it and Canada gasped. The blue eyed nation smirked against the skin and gave it another bite.

"A-Al—ah—"

"Shh…"

America gently pressed Canada down on the couch and straddled him. Canada looked up at him with pleading eyes and he tried hard not to give into temptation and just fuck the northern nation right into the sofa. America gave him a smile and pushed his hoodie up until his chest was exposed.

He traced the fine line of yellow hair leading into the waistband of Canada's sleeping pants. He bowed down and kissed along his lover's belly button and all the way up to his chest. Canada's breathing was already very erratic when America's fingers seemed to have found their way to his perky little buds. America pinched one of them, making Canada inhale sharply. America's lips took in one of the nipples, and all he could hear was the erotic gasps and moans of his lover.

Canada desperately grasped whatever he could on the couch, "A-Alfred—Alfred!"

With his freehand, America pushed and pulled Canada's hoodie off and set off to teasing the other through the fabric of his pants.

"Well, what do we have here?" America chuckled lowly and left kissed up to Canada's neck. "All I've done is touch you, and it's already wet?"

"Ahh, s-stop t-teasing, Al!" Canada complained and pulled America up for a kiss. America shoved his tongue into the eager mouth. As they kissed, America played with the waistband of Canada's pants and slowly pulled it down. Canada bit his lower lip in annoyance and he swiftly peeled the jeans off of his lover's legs along with his boxers. The sudden rush of cool air made Canada shiver.

America parted with Canada's lips as he scanned the bare body of his boyfriend. He inhaled sharply and willed his patience to stretch longer, "Ah, it's dripping." The blue eyed nation murmured lowly.

Canada mustered all his left over coherence to look at his lover: America was breathing pretty rapidly as well. His irises reflected a darker shade of blue. He looked disheveled. From what he could see and feel, America's member was pretty much straining against the zipper of his jeans. America's hair was tousled and brown…huh?

"Al—Alfred?"

"Hmm?"

"W-why is, ahh— why i-is your hair b-brown?"

America laughed, "Does being horny make you colorblind, Mattie?"

Canada did not have the chance to answer as the other took hold of his hard cock and started pumping.

"Ah—Ahh! F-Faste—mmh…"

"Leaking like a faucet," Alfred breathed with slight amusement, "At this rate, we won't even need lube, babe."

Canada was too forgone by now as America's stokes went faster and more erratic. As the southern nation smeared the pre-cum and thumbed the head, Canada shut his eyes and cried as he came into America's hand. America lifted his hand up and licked a bit of the white, thick liquid for Canada to see.

The purple eyed nation moaned at the scene. Why does America always do that? And he's stalling too. Canada really, _really _wanted America now.

America was about to pull away—since Canada already came, he did not want to do anything more else he tires him out. However, his lover pulled him back, switched their positions and straddled him. America was only able to blink at the sudden movement until soft lips crashed onto his. He buried his fingers into Canada's soft curls while the strawberry blond worked on removing his clothing. When Canada whined as he could not successfully remove his shirt, America chuckled and decided to help him out.

"Better?" he said once his shirt was finally peeled off. Canada nodded distractedly and began rocking back and forth against America's clothed erection.

America gritted his teeth and groaned. Patience finally waning, he reached for his zipper and started to devoid himself of his pants. He brushed Canada's own hard-on as he went.

"Al—h-hurry ahhh u-up—"

America moaned when he finally kicked his pants away. His cock was rubbing against Canada's in the most pleasurable way as of the moment. But Canada was still craving for something else. Hell, even he was craving it. It was just not enough.

"A-Alfred…"

America swallowed and held out three fingers against his lover's lips. Canada took them in and started licking and sucking the digits. "_How would that mouth and tongue feel somewhere else?" _America thought and licked his lips. In his train of thought, he did not notice Canada lowering his slick fingers down. Once he did though, he smiled and kissed Canada chastely—ironically—while he languidly traced the curvature of the small of his back, down to that throbbing puckered hole.

Slowly, America pushed in a finger. Canada moaned in a prolonged manner as the digit entered him and started going in and out. In his hazed and aroused stated, he did not even notice that two fingers had already joined the first one and that he was now pushing down in time to meet with America's thrusts. The digits probe inside him for a while longer until he saw nothing but white and he came with a strangled cry.

Ah, but he was still so painfully _hard_.

Though trembling, Canada spread his legs wider for America and held on tighter to the other's broad shoulders. America pushed and curled his digits inside of Canada, brushing his prostate more often than not. Canada was growing impatient.

"P-please Ah-Alfred, I _need _y-you—mmnh, now!"

With a growl, America pulled out his fingers and immediately aligned his aching erection with Canada's waiting tightness. He kissed Canada as he slowly lowered his lover down onto his cock.

Still, Canada was impatient.

America was suddenly engulfed by sheer, sweet tightness. Canada had slammed himself down onto America. It was all too quick, but to the both of them it felt, so, so wonderful.

"M-Matthew, fuck, you're so—" America inhaled sharply and began thrusting. The blond on top of him made the most erotic sounds. "So tight…"

Canada could not talk. His thoughts were too cloudy for coherent speech. All noise and sound that escaped from his lips were just moans, groans, gasps, pleads and variations of his lover's name. He thrust down in time with America's. He pressed down as hard as he could to feed his need. But why was the heat still there?

"Alfred—A-Alfred, more p-please—m-_more!_" he managed to cry out. America slowed down his thrusting.

The Canadian was just about to complain and ask why when he was abruptly pressed back down on the sofa with America hovering above him. His blue eyed lover gazed right at him. Canada stretched out his arms and wrapped it around America's shoulders.

Canada whispered, "Alfred?"

The American snapped. He plundered the Canadian's mouth greedily and began pounding into the tight heat with more fervor. Canada, in turn, became a babbling mess once more and wrapped his legs around America's waist and pulled him in closer, deeper. And when America shifted and changed the angle ever so slightly, all he could see was white—again, and again.

"Shit, you're so beautiful," America groaned in between kisses, "So fucking beautiful."

If he was not already flushed now, he would have blushed at his lover's comments.

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This time, Canada woke up to the sound of his alarm clock, crying for him to wake up. When he tried to get up, he was not able to move. He turned his head a bit to see America sleeping soundly with his arms wrapped around him protectively. Thankfully his alarm would turn off by itself soon—he figured he won't be able to stand up properly today anyway. A pleasant twinge running through his spine made him think so. Canada blushed.

Well, yesterday was… interesting.

A small voice in his head said that he should blame (or thank) England for this, but the warmth of his lover's embrace was, by far, more appealing than berating his former caretaker for sending such a… baddrug.

A yawn near his ear made him flinch and turn towards the source. America blinked away the inklings of sleep from his visage and smiled down at the Canadian staring at him.

"Mornin', Mattie."

Canada smiled back, "Good morning, Al."

"What happened to you last night?" America asked. Canada rolled his eyes at the other nation. "Hey, I ain't complaining 'bout it, but it was just out of the blue, y'know."

"M-maybe I was just repressed," Canada tried to reason. He could not place the blame on England yet—he does not have any proof. "We—we haven't really done it… for a-awhile."

"Ah," America nodded and grinned, "Well, maybe you should take a break more often. Being holed up in your study or office twenty-four-seven isn't really good for you."

"I g-guess," he laughed awkwardly. Even if he _was _repressed, he would not have pleaded America to give it to him; multiple times. He did not even know he had the stamina to last _that _long. And America's hair was _definitely_ brown the whole night. All right, maybe he will blame England. Canada frowned and America scrunched his brows.

"You okay?"

Canada forced a smile. "Yes, just a bit tired."

"_It's uncharacteristic for Arthur, though…_" he thought.

America snapped him out of his thoughts with a chaste kiss, "Mmm, hey, wasn't it April first yesterday?"

The purple eyed blond blinked, "Huh?"

"Yeah, it was!" America started laughing, "I'm surprised Francis didn't do anything this year."

Canada's eyes widened a fraction. "_Francis!"_ he mentally snarled, "_It's definitely his doing._"

He was pulled away from his internal monologue once again as his lover hugged him closer and nuzzled his hair.

"Whatd'ya want for breakfast? I'll cook for you."

Well, Canada will just have to scold France later.

(But somewhere, the Frenchman was already under the mercy of one pissed off Englishman.)

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**A/N: (read/sing this paragraph using one of Lonely Island's songs) **I just wrote seeeeeeeex~ And it didn't feel so good. ;w; I let my keyboard type out my fan girl dreams~ I just wrote seeeeeeex~! And I'll never go baaaack~ (never go back) To the night where I haven't wrote this shit… **T_T**

**Why the hell did I write this thing?**

Sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes, verb confusion, my idiocy and all that wonderful shi…ny rainbows.

This is a long author's note. You may stop reading (and leave me a review**/shot.**) now, if you want to.

So the reason this thing wasn't uploaded on the April first was because… uhh, yeah it contained the unmentionable. God, I now have new found respect for my favorite rated M writers. Writing this kinda thing is difficult. ;w; I'm so sorry to all those writers I ranted at just to write the scene we wanted. ;w; I'm really sorry.

Oh God, I bet the _**it**_scene was horrible, wasn't it? How the hell do you write _**it**_? ;w; Even if I read my fair share of yaoi and slash, it's still difficult. (Especially since we're all fangirls/boys here and I end up hyperventilating whenever I started a new paragraph. IT'S TOO MUCH. MY IMAGINATION RUNS WILD.) I bet you're wondering what happened to the other nations—seeing as everyone received chocolate… I dunno**/shot.** Nyahaha. I just focused on what happened to America and Canada. You can freely imagine what happened to the others! Even write a side story of your own. :3 Just please remember me. ;w; I'm forgotten in the real world already. ;w;

Bahaha. Whatever. ;w;

The first part with Iggy and France was sort of a prologue-thing. Basically, I just needed an excuse to make Canada take aphrodisiac so I can go all out with the _**it **_scene. Nyahaha. I'm so bad. ;w; This is PWP, right? Right?

Tell me what you think? Please leave me a review! ^w^


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